Em Cal: The Beginning
by SlyderLord
Summary: Prequel revolving around the metropolis, Titan City in which a notorious crime syndicate rules the underworld with the help of a ruthless hitman. Also featuring Vince McMahon,Sheamus, and Shane McMahon.
1. Chapter 1

**Em Cal: The Beginning**

_November, 1990_

A young man walked into the back alleyway. He was tall and brawny with bright red hair that was cut into a mullet. He was there for an ad in the paper. After two years of doing odd jobs, he was hoping to land a solid job.

He knocked on the metal door. A few moments later, a man answered. He was rather large with a shiny bald head and beady eyes. He looked at the young man up and down.

"What do you want?" he said.

"I'm here to answer the ad," said the young man.

"You ever bartend before?" asked the large man.

"No," the young man said. "But I can learn."

"Well, normally, we'd say no," said the large man. "But I think the boss is pretty desperate to hire anybody. Come in."

The young man followed the large man. The large man lead him to a small room with a bar. There were several men in there. The large man walked over to one of them. He was tall with dark neatly parted hair, a build under the expensive custom made suit he wore, a cleft chin, and an aqualine nose.

"What is it, Mickey?" he said.

"We got someone who answered the ad, Mr. McMahon," Mickey said. "He says he's never bartended before,"

McMahon observed him for a few seconds.

"Red hair, pale freckled skin," he said quietly. "Hell, he's a mick, just like us. That's won you brownie points with me, son. Get behind the counter and get to work."

The young man nodded and headed toward the bar. He looked at the dusty drink recipe book and decided to make Harvey Wallbangers. After he finished making them, he handed McMahon the first glass.. He took a sip. His face was impassive for a few seconds. Then McMahon's face split into a smile.

"Why this is the best Harvey Wallbanger I've ever tasted," he said. "I think we've got ourselves a permanent bartender."

He took out three crisp one hundred dollar bills and handed it to the young man.

"Thanks," said the young man. He had never held over a hundred dollars before.

"No problem." said McMahon. "Now I'm hosting a poker game tonight. There will be more where that came from."

A couple more men arrived. McMahon greeted them and the poker game was underway. The young man said nothing to anybody. All he did was serve the drinks and hand out cigars. He had about 1500 dollars in about an hour.

The poker game was still on. Wile most of the guys had folded, McMahon and a guy named Joerg were still in it.

"I'm all in," said McMahon, pushing his chips toward the middle of the table.

"So am I," said Joerg.

"The action's on you," said McMahon.

"You go first," said Joerg.

"I insist you act first," said McMahon.

Joerg laid down his hand.

"Four aces," he said, smirking.

McMahon's face contorted in fury.

"Why you cheating kraut bastard," he said. "You've been cheating all along haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Joerg. "Being the better poker player isn't cheating. Now hand over the money."

"I'm not handing over a damned thing." said McMahon. "I know for a fact that you've been cheating."

"Oh yeah?" Joerg sneered. "Prove it."

I've got an ace," said McMahon. "So how is it that you have four aces when I've got an ace?"

McMahon turned over his hand, revealing an ace of spades. Joerg began to sweat. The young man noticed him reaching for something in his waist.

"You've always been a sack of shit, Joerg," said McMahon contemptously. "I've got half a mind to kill you right now."

Joerg got up, yelled something in German and pulled out a SIG Sauer. He aimed it at McMahon. Shots rang out, but it was Joerg who collapsed to the floor, two holes in his chest. Everybody looked at the source of the shots. The young man was holding a 9mm, his face blank. McMaon walked over to the young man.

"He was about to shoot you," he said. "So I shot him."

"Ever kill somebody before?" McMahon asked.

The young man shook his head.

"You saved my life." said McMahon. "And for that, I wanna offer you a business preposition. How would you like to quit bartending? (you would have gotten bored with it anyway) and earn in a spot in my group?"

"Sure," said the young man. "What do I have to do?"

"All you have to do is eliminate the opposition." said McMahon. "We'll start you off with five hundred dollars a kill. It'll get higher over a year."

"I'll do it," said the young man, without hesitation.

"That's what I like to hear," said McMahon. "Now you're not going to tell anyone what you're doing, not even your parents."

"Oh, that won't be hard," said the young man. "My parents died when I was 16."

"You didn't kill them, did you?" McMahon asked.

"No," said the young man, "they're just dead."

"Oh," said McMahon. "Well ,it's nice doing business with you uh... what's your name?"

"Em Cal," said the young man.

"Em Cal," McMahon repeated. "Is that your real name?"

"It says so on my birth certificate." said Em Cal

"Well, Em Cal, thank you for saving me the trouble of killing that kraut myself." said McMahon. "I've got a job for you to do."

"What is it?" Em Cal asked

"It's Mickey," said McMahon. I believe he's turning information over to the police about me. I want you to waste him, but make it look like an accident."

"Okay," said Em Cal

"Now this is your foot in the door, don't screw this up," said McMahon. "I'm really counting on you to do this for me."

"I won't let you down," said Em Cal

"Good." said McMahon. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to attend to. For tonight, just keep bartending."


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Two men were in a turquoise '63 Corvette Rondine. The driver was tall and buff with long blond hair, a hook nose, and a mustache that would have made Lemmy Kilmister jealous. The passenger was an even taller man just as muscular with long auburn hair tied into a ponytail, rugged features, cold green eyes that hid behind the sunglasses that he wore and a goatee. They were Paul L. and Em Cal.

"So, let me get this straight," said Em Cal, "you think that Daffy Duck smokes crack?"

"Definitely," said Paul L. "I mean how else can he blow his beak off and not feel pain?"

Em Cal shook his head.

"Where the hell do you get these ideas from?" he asked

"I don't get these ideas from anywhere," said Paul L. "I mean it's so obvious. And don't get me started on that Shaggy. The way he dresses, that haircut and the amount of food he eats per episode. I know a pothead when I see one."

"What're you, a drug counselor?" Em Cal asked.

"Hell, I should be," said Paul L. "I can spot all of the warning signs."

"And your clients would all be cartoon characters." Em Cal said, chuckling.

Paul L. turned a corner.

"So how's the better half?" Em Cal asked.

"She's alright." Paul L. said. "She's been spending out of control lately though, buying negligees, diamonds, fur coats and all that shit. I mean what the hell do you need a fur coat for in the middle of August?"

"Maybe she wants to be prepared for the winter." said Em Cal.

"No, she just buys things because she can." said Paul L. "I'm going to have to cut her expenses."

"That'll be a breeze." said Em Cal. "You don't want the boss's daughter to come crying to Daddy about how you've been making her unhappy."

"Yeah, you're right." said Paul L. "Men never win."

"You got that right." said Em Cal. "That's why I'm not in a relationship. I just find them, screw them and flee."

"Hey, when are you ever going to settle down, Em Cal?" Paul L. asked. "Dont' you want a woman waiting for you with dinner on the table and who's a freak in the bed?"

"Not today." said Em Cal. "Women are complicating to deal with. Besides, my with my career, it would be too risky to drag a woman into my business."

The Vette finally pulled to a stop.

"This is it here?" Paul L. asked.

"Yeah," said Em Cal. "See the vacant lot and the abandoned building across the street?"

The two men got out the car. They went into the trunk and got out two Barrett M82s with silencers. Then they went inside the abandoned building and took the stairs all the way up to the roof. When they reached the roof, Em Cal loked at his watch and said, "It's nearly time. They should be on their way."

"They" were associates of V.K. McMahon. They were doing a business deal with some out of towners from Russia. Em Cal and Paul L.'s job was to make sure everything went smooth.

Moments later, a dark blue '94 Lincoln Continental appeared. Out came two men. One was a tall black man with a shiny bald head and a beard. The other was a shorter pale man with white blond hair. He had a suitcase in his hand.

Another car appeared. An '89 shamrock green Mercedes Benz. Three men emerged from the car.

The five men exchanged greetings. Then the Russians reached inside their trunk pulled out a suitcase and showed its contents to McMahon's associates. The associates nodded in approvement. They opened their suitcase, revealing 20 and 50 dollars bills used. The men shook hands and the Russians took the suitcase full of money.

"Good." said Paul L. "The deal went through. We didn't have to waste anybody."

He spoke too soon. A black BMW M3 with tinted windows came out of nowhere and four unidentified men got out brandishing guns.

"Showtime." said Em Cal.

Em Cal targeted the man going toward the Russians and squeezed the trigger. The bullet embedded itself in the assailant's head. Paul L. got the second man on the right. The both of them finished off the final two. McMahon's associates examined the four dead bodies, looked up at where Em Cal and Paul L. were standing and flashed a thumbs up.

"Our work is done." said Paul L.

"Not yet." said Em Cal. "Wait til they leave."

After McMahon's associates and the Russians departed, Em Cal and Paul L. made it back to the 'Vette. It was a good night.

For 18 years, V.K. McMahon's group, the McMahon Crime Syndicate ruled the underworld and the streets of Titan City. They were one of the most feared in the state. The MCS enaged in loansharking, drug trafficking, arms trafficking, extortion and murder.

The most dangerous man of MCS was not only V.K. McMahon himself, but his longest and most loyal man, Em Cal. Em Cal slowly transformed from a small time crook to a blood thirsty, remorseless assassin. Many men quaked at the sound of his name. Many of McMahon's enemies were scared to go home or fall asleep for fear that Em Cal would be there, ready to take them out. Whenever McMahon wanted to make a serious statement, he sent Em Cal to do the job.

Paul L. was McMahon's 2nd right hand man. He had a meanstreak in him that made him feared, but not so much so as Em Cal. He was not Irish like Em Cal and the rest of MCS, but he was married to V.K. McMahon's daughter and that made him somebody. He had no qualms about killing and was a little hot tempered. He once shot a pizza delivery boy for not giving him the right order.

Em Cal and Paul L. got back to Gallagher's a bar that MCS often inhabited. They headed inside. Classical music was playing. The owner of the bar, Patrick, greeted them. In the back, in the dim lights, was V.K. McMahon, sipping a cosmopolitan.

Nothing had really changed about McMahon, except that his hair was salt and pepper colored and his face was a little more lined.

"So," he said. "How did things go down?"

"The deal is sealed." said Em Cal. "We shot down four assholes trying to ruin the deal, but other than that everything's okay."

"Good, good." said McMahon. "Now we got the Russian's trust. And you know how hard it is to get a Russian to trust. Well done guys."

He got out two envelopes and gave them to Em Cal and Paul L.

"Your jobs here are complete." said McMahon. "You may do as you please for the rest of the night."

Paul L walked away. McMahon beckoned Em Cal closer.

"I need you to do a job for me," he said. "You know Dean Murphy right?"

Em Cal nodded.

"Well, that bastard has owed me money for the longest. Teach him not to mess with me. Waste him. It doesn't have to be tonight, but do it by the end of the week.

"You got it." said Em Cal

"Good," said McMahon. "Now go help yourself to a drink or two."

McMahon didn't have to tell him twice. Em Cal ordered a Jack and Coke. Paul L. had ordered a martini.

"Y'know, I've never seen you order anything else." said Paul L.

"That's because I'm a real man." said Em Cal. "And this is a real man's drink."

"And who said real men have to drink Jack and Coke?" asked Paul L.

"I said it." said Em Cal. "And my word is law."

Paul L. laughed.

One can't argue with that." he said.

After he finished his Jack and Coke, Em Cal got up to leave.

"Where you going?" Paul L asked.

"Going to the Burrito Bandit to get something to eat." said Em Cal. "Then after that, I'm going to get laid. See you later."


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Em Cal hopped on his '05 candy purple lowrider Harley. He drove out to Cherry Grove, a suburban town of Titan City. He stopped in front of a ranch style home. He looked at the number on the mailbox. 670. Yep, it was where Murphy lived.

He walked casually toward the front door. When he reached it, he pulled out a crow bar and forced the door open. He quietly closed the door behind him after he entered. He could hear a man's grunts, and a woman's moans and screams. He got out a Springfield XDM with a silencer and walked to the end of the hallway. It creaked a little, but Murphy nor his wife heard it.

Em Cal crept on up Murphy and watched the free live porno for a brief moment. Murphy's wife opened her eyes, saw Em Cal standing over them, and let out a scream of horror. Murphy turned around for the source of the scream. He reached for something, but Em Cal pulled the trigger four times. The bullets embedded theirselves in Murphy's back. Em Cal put the Springfield to Murphy's head and pulled the trigger once more to make sure he died. He then turned his attention toward Murphy's wife. She had the cover pulled up to her chin and was whimpering, which annoyed Em Cal deeply. She had fear in her eyes like a dear caught in the headlights. Em Cal liked it. He smiled at her.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart." he said before he stuck the Springfield between her eyebrows and blew her brains out.

Em Cal ransacked the room. He found a suitcase in the closet. He opened it. There were crisp one hundred dollar bills inside. Em Cal checked to make sure it was all money. He then took the money out the suitcase and stuffed it all in his leather duster and walked out the house before anyone answered to Mrs. Murphy's scream.

He finally reached his place, an apartment on Starkweather Street. He walked up the stairs, until he reached the fourth floor. He took out his key and opened the door.

The first thing he did when he got inside was call V.K. McMahon's cell phone. McMahon didn't pick up, so Em Cal left a message.

"McMahon, this is Em Cal. Murphy's dead. So is his wife, so she can't talk. I found some money. About 100 grand. See you tomorrow."

After that, Em Cal lit up a Winston, walked over to a cage where a Columbian red tail boa lay curled up. Em Cal tapped on the cage.

"Hey, Reaper," he said. "Did you miss me boy?"

Reaper began to uncoil.

"Are you hungry?" Em Cal asked. "I got something for you."

He went into another cage, which contained a large rat. He took the rat and dangled it over Reaper's cage.

"Dinner," said Em Cal, lowering the rat into the cage. Reaper went after the rat immediately. Em Cal watched Reaper constrict the rat before swallowing it whole.

Em Cal washed his hands and went into his fridge. He then made himself a corned beef sandwich with a side of Ruffles chips and a Cherry Bomb Cola soda. After he finished eating, he did some push ups, did about four hundred reps on the dumb bells and took a long hot shower before going to sleep.

The next morning, Em Cal had breakfast at his favorite spot, Dirty Dan's Diner. After that, he went to D.O.A. a gun shop on the corner of Hickock and Cassidy. The owner, Dead Eye Dave, was a muscular black man with a mohawk and an eye patch. Em Cal didn't know much about him, except that he was an ex- Marine.

"Well, if it isn't my best customer." he said. "How the hell are you?"

"Good," said Em Cal. "How about you?"

"Doin' fine," said Dead Eye Dave. "How can I help you today?"

"That depends," said Em Cal. "Whatcha got?"

"Well, this just came in." said Dave, getting out a revolver with a scope. "A .357 magnum. Holds eight shots instead of six. Three hundred and ninety dollars."

"Nice." said Em Cal, giving a rare happy smile.

"And this." said Dave, "is a Glock 20 10mm, holds 10 to 15 shots. Three hundred bucks."

"Excellent." said Em Cal.

"This is a Colt Mustang .380." said Dave. "Fits right in your pocket. Two hundred and fifty bucks."

"Great." said Em Cal.

"And last, but not least," said Dave, "a Ruger P90 .45 ACP. Blue Finish. Four hundred bucks."

"Fucking awesome." said Em Cal

"So, what will it be, big man?" asked Dave.

"I'll take them all." said Em Cal, taking someoney out of an envelope and throwing some money on the counter.

"Great," said Dave. "Wanna try them out?"

"Hell yeah," said Em Cal

"Help yourself." said Dave.

Em Cal headed to the shooting range. He tested out the Glock 20 first. He hit all of the targets with exteme accuracy. He then fired the .357 magnum. It had a nice feel to it. Em Cal, who was fond of revolvers, was impressed.

After his finished testing out his new toys, Em Cal left D.O.A. Just as he was about to get on his Harley, his Blackberry went of. He answered it.

"Em Cal," he said.

"Hello, Em Cal," It was V.K. McMahon. "I got your message. Come on over to Paddy's. All the guys are here. We're having a meeting."

"Gotcha," said Em Cal, hanging up.

He rode over to Paddy's. Paddy's was one of the three restaurants that V.K. McMahon owned. Paddy's was a front for his drug operations. And it sometimes served as the MCS's headquarters.

Em Cal parked his bike across the street. He saw V.K. McMahon's custom Jaguar. He also saw Paul L.'s Corvette. He went inside.

The MCS were all inside. McMahon sat at the end of the table. Em Cal sat next to Paul L., whom he greeted with a high five.

"Good, Em Cal's here." said McMahon. "Now we can get started."

He stood up.

"Today's the day," he said. "Our shipment comes in. Now word is that our enemies are going to try to steal some of our precious white gold. They're going to be using boats to try to steal our supplies. That's not going to happen. I want all you to make sure it doesn't. Take out as many of those bastards as you can. I'm going to be there too. I want you all to meet me at the jetty at Sundance Beach later on in the evening. Got it?"

There was a murmur of agreement."

"Good," said McMahon. "Meeting adjourned."

Everybody except Em Cal got up and left. He took out the money that he took from Murphy and handed it to McMahon.

"I guess that's supposed to be the money he owes." Em Cal said.

"Yes," said McMahon. "Since you gave it all to me, how about I give you half?"

"There's no need to do that." said Em Cal.

"There is need." said McMahon. "I rarely trust people, Em Cal, but you, I would trust with my life. Do you know how many of my men would have taken some of this money for themselves? You didn't do that. Therefore, you shall receive half."

He gave Em Cal fifty thousand dollars. Reluctanly, Em Cal took it.

"I appreciate it," said Em Cal. He didn't say thank you. He never said it.

"No problem," said McMahon. "Now you must prepare for this evening. Go home and get ready."

Em Cal nodded and left Paddy's.

When Em Cal arrived at his apartment, he put away his new guns and went into his arsenal. He got out an M4 Carbine with an aim spot and grenade launcher.

"This will do the trick," said Em Cal, smiling evily.

Em Cal drove to Sundance Beach. The evening sun beamed down on him as he walked to the jetty. V.K. McMahon, Paul L and the rest of MCS were there, all of them armed.

"Hello, Em Cal," said McMahon. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," said Em Cal, "ready to kill."

"That's what I wanted to hear," said McMahon. "This is Dimitrios," he said, indicating, a small wiry man with dark heavily gelled hair. "He'll be driving one of the boats. Now, Em Cal, Paul and myself will be getting in this one. The rest of you, more boats are coming."

The three men got inside the boat. Dimitrios started driving.

"Be on the lookout for them," said McMahon. "Be ready."

Dimitios kept driving.

"I will tell you when we get to the big boat," he said.

Em Cal looked around. Sure enough, several boats were approaching them. And they weren't McMahon's men.

"Alright, there they are," Em Cal said. "Let's wipe these sons of bitches out."

Em Cal, Paul L. and McMahon fired at the first boat. The boat veered of course. Em Cal shot the one in the passenger's seat. He fell over into the water.

"Sleep with the fish, asshole!" Em Cal shouted.

McMahon shot the driver. Paul L. finished off the other two in the boat.

More boats came. They were fighting fiercely, but MCS were putting up an even stronger fight.

There were boats on either side of the one Em Cal was in.

"You take the ones on the left, Em Cal," McMahon shouted. "Paul and I will take the ones on the right."

Em Cal unloaded on the assailants. One by one, they all laid down. When they were all dead, Em Cal looked behind him. McMahon's men were putting a hurting on the other assailants. They were decreasing in numbers, but still were putting up a fight. Em Cal decided to put them out of their misery.

"Eat this!" he shouted as he released a grenade. It landed right in the last boat of the assailants. The boat blew up and there was a big billow of smoke.

"That's the last of them," said Em Cal.

"Good shooting everybody," said McMahon. "Dimitrios, how far have we got to go now?"

"We're almost there, sir." said Dimitrios.

"Good," said McMahon. "When we get there, I want you guys to guard the boat incase there's more of them."

Em Cal and Paul L. nodded.

"Good," said McMahon. "I'll be in and out."

The boat finally reached their destination. Em Cal, Paul L. and the rest of MCS followed McMahon onto the big boat. They guarded the entrance to the boat, guns, at the ready. They waited for something to go down, but nothing did. McMahon was back with two large briefcases.

"We're done here," he said. "Everybody back on the boats."

"Dimitrios drove back to the jetty. Em Cal, Paul L. and McMahon climbed back on it. When the rest of MCS got back on the jetty, McMahon said. "Great work, gentlemen. You can all do what you like for the rest of the evening. I've got some business deals to make."

As Em Cal headed back to the beach, Paul L. said. "I'm going to have dinner with my wife. What're you planning to do?"

"I think I'm going to head to the casinos and blow some money." said Em Cal.

"Well, I hope that doesn't happen," said Paul L. "See you later."

Em Cal hopped on the Harley. He was going to go to Giorgio's for some pizza and then head to Sunshine Casino.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Em Cal's Harley parked across Sunshine Casino. It was large and flamboyant with its neon lights and large neon sun lighting up like a Christmas tree. It was easily the most noticeable casino on the strip.

Stomach full of stuffed pizza and buffalo wings, Em Cal felt good. He walked inside.

He looked around at the people at the slots, at the black jack table and at the craps table. His instinct was telling him to go to the craps table. He walked up to one of the tables.

"I want in on this game." he said

"Sir, are you aware that there's a twenty thousand dollars payout this evening?" asked the boxman.

"Well give me forty thousand dollars in chips," said Em Cal

The boxman gave Em Cal his chips. Em Cal tooked the dice and rolled them. The stickman looked at them.

"Seven!" he shouted. "Pay the line."

Everybody cheered as the stickman handed Em Cal the dice. Em Cal rolled again.

"Eleven!" shouted the stick man

"You're on a roll so far big man," said one of the betters.

"I intend to stay on a roll," Em Cal said.

Em Cal rolled ten consecutive sevens. He rolled the dice for the last time. The dice seemed to roll slowly. They finally stopped. The stickman looked at the dice.

"Seven!" he shouted.

Everybody roared. Em Cal went to cash in his chips.

He had earned nearly two hundred thousand dollars. He put all of of his money in a suitcase and headed home.

As he got on his bike, a voice said. "No so fast. Step right into this alleyway if you know what's best for you."

Em Cal smiled to himself as he got off the bike and walked toward the alley. Three men who all appeared in their mid to late 20s, surrounded Em Cal. One of them had a baseball bat.

"Ya'll think ya'll some real badasses, don't you?" said Em Cal

"Shut up," said the tallest of the three. "We're in charge, not you. Now hand over that suitcase or we'll bash your brains in."

"With pleasure," said Em Cal, his voice full of malice. He gave the suitcase to the leader. He opened the suitcase.

"Damn," he said, "it's got to be over a hundred Gs in here."

"And that's the last you'll ever see of it," said Em Cal. He gave a good hard kick to the leader's head, knocking him down, the suitcase falling out of his hand. The other two went after Em Cal. Em Cal was ready for them. The one with the bat, swung at Em Cal, but Em Cal caught it, wrung it out of his hands and gave him two hard shots to the head and back. The other one took out a switch blade and attempted to stab Em Cal. Em Cal grabbed his wrist and snapped it in half. The man let out a cry of pain. Em Cal grabbed him by the throat and threw him into the wall. He fell to the ground.

The one whom Em Cal kicked got up and wrestled with him for a few seconds. Em Cal kneed him in the gut, pulled out a knife of his own and impaled his chest with it. He pulled the knife out, turned him around and slit his throat. He spat on the body and turned his attention to the one with the broken wrist. He was crouched against the wall, holding it, moaning in pain. Em Cal grabbed him up and stabbed him repeatedly with the knife until he was no more.

The one Em Cal had hit with the bat was slumped against a trash can. Em Cal pulled out a .460 S&W. He walked slowly toward the punk and aimed. He was about to pull the trigger. The punk looked and became hysterical.

"Christ, man," he pleaded pathetically. "Don't kill me man, please!"

"You try to rob me and you think I should let you live?" Em Cal said, rage permeating throughout his body. He had a violent gleam in his eye. The gleam he got just before he killed. "Give me one good reason why I should let you live you piece of shit! You've got twenty seconds. You better talk fast."

"I'm good with rumors." said the punk. "Anything that happens in this city, I know about it. I can get you any piece of information you need."

Em Cal contemplated it; This kid could be valuable to him. He lowered his gun.

"Alright you bastard." he said. "You proved your point. Get your sorry ass up."

The punk obediently got to his feet.

"Now here's the deal," Em Cal started, "I'm going to let you live. Under one condition."

"And what's that one condition?" asked the punk.

"You report to me and nobody else." said Em Cal. "You hear something on the streets, you tell me and nobdoy else. Got that?"

The punk didn't look to happy about the idea, but seeing how Em Cal had just killed his friends with such ease, he wasn't in a postion to argue."

"Okay, I got it," he muttered finally.

"Good," said Em Cal. "Now I need two pieces of information from you."

"Okay," said the punk. "What?"

"What's your name first off?" Em Cal asked.

"Saviero DiSanto." said the punk. "But everybody knows me as S.D."

"Okay, S.D.," said Em Cal. "Now I need to know where you live. I need to keep a tab on your ass incase you get out of line."

"I live at 636 North Kush Street," muttered S.D.

"Got it," said Em Cal. "Now I'm going to tell you who I am. The name's Em Cal."

S.D.'s eyes widened.

"_You're_ Em Cal?" he said. "Holy shit! If I'd know who you were, my friends and I would have never tried to rob you."

"Yeah, well you did," said Em Cal. "And look where it got you and your friends. Make wiser choices in the future boy. Now I'm going to leave you to mourn. I'll catch you later...S.D."

He picked up his suitcase and walked out the alleyway.

The next day, Em Cal went grocery shopping. Then he went to the gym and hit on the bag for a little while. After that he headed to the Ragin' Greek for a couple of gyros. He checked his Blackberry for any messages. He had a text message from Paul L. It read. _"V.K. wants to meet with the both of us. He said to meet him at Paddy's"._

Wondering what it could be about , Em Cal got on the Harley and headed to Paddy's.

V.K. McMahon and Paul L. were there, talking lowly. McMahon looked up and smiled.

"There you are," he said. "I've got a favot I want you two to do for me."

"Okay, what's the favor?" Em Cal asked.

"Javier Batista is a client from Costa Rica." said McMahon "He wants to buy some of my product. I'm sending you two to make the deal with him."

He put the briefcase on the table and slide it to Em Cal.

"He wants us to meet him on the dock at Sundance Bay at five o'clock." said Paul L

"Alright," Em Cal said. "I'm in."

"I knew you'd say that," said McMahon. "Best of luck, gentlemen,"

Em Cal and Paul L. left Paddy's. They both got in Paul L.'s 'Vette.

How was dinner with the wife?" Em Cal asked.

"Great," said Paul L. as he started up the car. "We went to a Thai restaurant. Their pineapple fried rice is to die for. How was the casino?"

"I won nearly two hundred thousand dollars at the craps table." Em Cal said. "Some dumbass punks tried to rob me. I showed them who the man was."

"Way to go," said Paul L. "Wish I'd been there to help you take them out."

"It was four fifty-five when they reached the dock. The two men go out and waited. A few moments later a helicopter showed up. It slowly began to descend. When the helicopter landed, a man came out from the passenger's side. He was tall and dusky with a good build that hid under the expensive white suit that who wore. His hair was thinning.

"_Hola, amigos_," said Javier Batista. "Where's _Señor_ McMahon?"

"He couldn't make it," said Em Cal. "So he sent us. We work for him."

"I see," said Javier. "Nice to meet you both."

"Likewise," said Em Cal.

"So, shall we get down to business?" Paul L. asked.

"_Si, señor_." said Javier. "Show me what you got."

Em Cal got out the briefcase and opened it.

"100% pure Grade A Columbian." he said.

"_Muy bueno_," said Javier, impressed.

"Yep," said Em Cal. "So do you have the green?"

"Javiet opened his briefcase."

"Twenties and fifties, used." he said.

"Looks like we got a deal, _hombre._" Em Cal said.

As soon as they exchanged suitcases, shots rang out. Paul L fell to the ground, a bullet wound in his chest. Javier got hit in the shoulder. Em Cal wheeled around. Several masked men armed with assault rifles, were coming at Em Cal. Em Cal pulled out a silenced MP5. Everything else had been wiped out of his brain. The kill button was on and it was jammed. He pulled the trigger and obliterated every last one of the masked men. After they were all on the ground dead, Em Cal ran to Paul L and kneeled down next to him. He felt Paul L.'s pulse. There was none.

"Dammit," he said. "Dammit to hell."

He went to check on Javier. He was clutching his injured shoulder.

"You better get out of here." Em Cal said. He handed him the suitcase full of drugs. Javier thanked him and walked back to the helicopter. When the helicopter was out of sight, Em Cal went back to Paul L and lifted his body up and put it in the passenger seat of the 'Vette. Then, he went back for the suitcase full of money, and threw it in the back seat.

He got back to Paddy's. He lifted Paul L. once more and carried him to the door.

V.K. McMahon and the rest of MCS were there. When McMahon saw Em Cal carrying Paul L., he did a double take.

"What happened to him?" he asked.

"Some masked men tried to ambush the deal." said Em Cal. "I killed them, but not before they shot Paul."

McMahon fell to the floor on his knees, shaking.

"Jesus," he said. "Not my son-in-law. Not my son-in-law.

Em Cal hated to see McMahon that way. The man was the number one crime boss in Titan City, he was tough. Seeing him break down like that was hard to watch.

After the M.E. took Paul L.'s body, em Cal left Paddy's and went to his favorite bar, the Se7en Spades. He sat at his favorite stool. The owner, Jack was a big rangy man with long chocolate brown hair and gray eyes.

"Hey brother," he greeted Em Cal, "Long time no see."

"Yeah, I've been busy," said Em Cal.

"So what brings you here?" asked Jack.

"Friend of mine got killed," said Em Cal. "Right in front of me."

"Holy shit," said Jack. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," said Em Cal. "He had a wife and three kids. I don't know what they're going to do without him."

"You need a drink brother," said Jack. "Will it be the usual?"

"Not this time," said Em Cal. "I need something stronger."

"How about some Everclear?" said Jack

"Yeah," said Em Cal, "that'll do."

Em Cal sank shot after shot. He thought about all the good times he and Paul L. had. Things were never going to be the same again.

It was closing time. Em Cal was so sauced, he could barely stand. He called a cab to get him home. He wouldn't be able to take the stairs, so he took the elevator. When he reached his apartment, he went into his bedroom and passed out.

Em Cal, V.K. McMahon and MCS attended Paul L.'s funeral. As the rain poured, and as McMahon said the eulogy, an incandescent rage was burning inside Em Cal's chest. He had a mission to do.

After the service was over, Em Cal walked over to Stephanie, Paul L.'s wife. She held one of Paul L's daughters in her arms. Tears were falling down her face.

"Stephanie," Em Cal started, "I can only imagine what you're going through. I don't have many friends, but your husband was one of those people I considered to be a friend. I promise you, Stephanie, I'm going to find the bastards who are responsible for this. And come hell or high water, i'm going to annihilate them."

He hugged Stephanie. Then, he got on his Harley and drove away, heading to Diamondback Desert for a long ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

Em Cal returned from Diamondback Desert. The long ride hadn't refreshed him. He sat in his living room and lit up a Winston. He thought about what he was going to do. How he was going to plot his revenge. He only hoped that the people who sent those assassins had better believe in God and beg for His mercy, because Em Cal certainly wasn't going to show them any.

After smoking a whole pack of Winstons, Em Cal undressed and got in the shower. He let the steamy hot water rain down on his body. After an hour he wrapped a towel around himself, dried off and put on some fresh underwear before he went to sleep.

The next day, he drove to 636 North Kush Street. He pulled up in front of a shabby looking two story house. Walking up the steps, he rung the doorbell. A few moments later, a woman answered the door. She was tall and beautiful with smooth pale skin and Hershey brown eyes. Her hair was waist length and it was dyed silver blonde.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking at Em Cal up and down.

"Em Cal." said Em Cal. "I'm here to see S.D."

"Oh, shoulda known," she said, moving aside so Em Cal could get through. When Em Cal was in, she yelled, "SAVIERO!"

"God, Angela, what the hell do you want now?" said S.D.'s voice issuing from the backroom.

"Someone's here to see you, asshole!" Angela shouted

"Send him in." said S.D.

"Make a right," Angela said to Em Cal. "The first door."

Em Cal nodded and headed to S.D.'s room. He opened the door and immediately, a strong scent of marijuana hit his nose. S.D. was sitting on the edge of a mattress, smoking a joint.

The room was dirty with clothes, blunt wrappers, and Chinese food cartons littering the floor. Em Cal had seen landfills looking better than S.D.'s room.

"Cal," S.D. said, looking up. "What brings you here?"

"First off, boy, you don't get to ask questions," said Em Cal coldly. "Now, I'm here because I got some work for you."

"Okay," said S.D., putting down the joint.

"A week ago, a friend of mine and myself were ambushed. My friend died. I need to you find out who sent the assassins out to try to set us up. Do that for me."

"I will," said S.D.

"Good," said Em Cal. "By the way, you girlfiend is a looker."

S.D. snorted.

"She's not my girlfriend, thank God," he said. "That's my sister."

"Oh," said Em Cal. "Well, she looks good."

"Thanks, I guess," said S.D.

"Well, here's my number," said Em Cal, scribbling his number on a piece of paper. Call me when you find out something."

He walked out, winked at Angela and left the house.

Em Cal hadn't heard from S.D. for a week. He was not a patient man and hated the fact that the people were responsible for Paul L.'s death were walking around unpunished. However, he went about his business, working for V.K. McMahon, though without Paul L., the atmosphere was different.

Em Cal was sitting with V.K. McMahon. McMahon leaned toward and said, "I'm purchasing some more cocaine. I need you to get it for me. The dealers will be in the alleyway of the old arcade on Hoover Street. I want you to be extra careful going around there, that's Crips' territory. Watch you ass, Em Cal."

"You know me better than that, McMahon." said Em Cal. "I've proven to you time and time that I'm a warrior."

That's true." said McMahon, "however, I'm going to give you back up. I'm sending Stephen to go with you."

Stephen was one of McMahon's bodyguards. He was a new member, but experienced, having been a well known assassin in his native Ireland. He had been third in ranking of the MCS, but with Paul L. dead, he now ranked second.

Stephen was tall and muscular with spiky fiery red hair and very pale skin. He made Em Cal look like he had a tan. He spoke with a heavy brogue.

"We'll take me car, fella," said Stephen as he and Em Cal walked outside.

They both got inside Stephen's car, a white '88 Chevy Camaro Iroc Z.

Hoover Street was on the South side of Titan City. It was one of the poorest neighborhoods in the metropolis and was infested with crime.

Stephen pulled up in front of the arcade. The two men walked in the alleyway. There were two other men waiting for them. One was tall with the skin the color of ripe bananas, braided hair, a scar under his left eye, and a tuft of hair under his chin. The other one was in his late teens. He was short and dark skinned with his designs cut in his hair, a mustache and was wearing sunglasses. He had on clothes about five times to big on his thin frame.

"You boys got the stuff?" Em Cal asked.

"Yo, who you callin' boy, vanilla face?" the younger boy snapped.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Em Cal, even though he wasn't. "Do you have the stuff, Gangsta Smurf?"

The younger boy started toward Em Cal furiously. Em Cal and Stephen cracked their knuckles, ready for the fight. The tall one got between them.

"Hey, brothers, chill, we didn't come here for this," he said. "Terrell, calm your ass down, now!"

"Well you better check your boys, C-Money!" Terrell shouted. He glowered at Em Cal

"So do you have the product, fella?" Stephen asked.

"Does shit stink?" C-Money said. He got out a suitcase revealing bricks of cocaine.

"Straight from Chile, my friends," he said. "Ya'll got the dough?"

Em Cal opened the suitcase he had.

"All hundreds," he said.

"Aight, trills," said C-Money smiling. "Here you go."

As Em Cal handed over the cash, Stephen took the suitcase full of cocaine. C-Money and Terrell walked away and got into a black '97 Chevy Caprice, leaving Em Cal and Stephen in the alley.

Stephen opened the suitcase.

"We Irish are a wee bit iffy of everyone," he said, cutting open a brick with a razor blade. "We have to make sure that this is pure coke before we take it to Mr. McMahon."

He put a dab of coke on his finger and tasted it.

"We've been had, fella," he said. "You know how cocaine has that bitter taste? This is wheat flour."

"Sons of bitches." Em Cal groweled. "C'mon, get in the car, let's go after them."

The Caprice had stopped at a red light near Ross Freeway. Stephen's Camaro pulled up right next to it. Em Cal pulled out a a Cobray Mac-11 and fired, shattering the window glass. The Caprice immediately drove off. The Camaro pursued. Em Cal shot at the tires, flattening two of them. The Caprice skidded out of control, but kept going. Terrell stuck his body out the Caprice with a pump action shotgun.

"Oh shit, duck!" Em Cal shouted as Terrell fired. The front windows shattered. Em Cal used this to his advantage and shot the back window out.

The Caprice made an erratic right. Terrell fired again, but he missed.

"Make level with them!" Em Cal shouted.

The Camaro sped up until they were once again next to them. Em Cal fired at C-Money, this time scoring. The bullets hit him in the chest, arm and head. The car skidded and crashed into a parked car. Em Cal got out of the Camaro, walked toward the Caprice and opened the door. He shot up Terrell and took the money and the shotgun.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered to Stephen as he got back inside.

They drove back to Gallagher's where McMahon was with several members of MCS.

"So how did the deal go down?" he asked.

"We were hornswoggled, sir." said Stephen. "The drugs were really wheat flour."

"We killed the dealers." said Em Cal.

"Damn," said McMahon. "Well, we know not to buy anything from the South side anymore."

"Here's your money," said Em Cal, putting the suitcase on the table.

Em Cal sank two glasses of Jack and Coke before going home. No sooner had he sat down, did his Blackberry go off. He picked it up and answered.

"Em Cal."

"Cal," it was S.D. "I've got some info on who killed your friend, Paul L."

"Who did it?" Em Cal asked.

"It was Frankie Saracino who sent his men to try to ambush the deal." said S.D.

"Frankie Saracino." Em Cal repeated. "The Don?"

"The one and only." said S.D. "Anyways, I've got to go now. Catch you later."

Em Cal hung up. The same rage he felt when Paul L. had been killed filled him up.

The Saracino Family were second in town. They basically were involved in the same things the McMahon Crime Syndicate were involved in, but they only ruled things in the Little Italy section of Titan City.

The Saracinos knew not to mess with the MCS. Em Cal saw it as suicide and decided to notify McMahon.

"What?" McMahon said outraged. "Those greasy haired spaghetti slurping dagos were responsible for killing my son in-law? I see, they're attempting to make a power move, they want to be number one. Well as long as V.K. McMahon is alive, that's not going to happen. As a matter of fact, we're going to do what those pizza munchers call a vendetta."

"What do you have in mind?" Em Cal asked.

"Old Frankie's capo and nephew, Two Ton Gino," said McMahon. "He's always stuffing his fat face at St. Anthony's Bistro. I want you to waste him. There's a guy I know named Claude, who's good with explosives. Steal Gino's car and fit it with a bomb and drive it back to St. Anthony's then watch the show. You will be paid greatly for this."

Em Cal nodded and got up. Before he did this deed, he had to scope out the days Two Ton Gino went to St. Anthony's and how long he stayed there. He hopped on his Harley and headed home.

For the next week, Em Cal, in different cars spied on Two Ton Gino. He found that he drove a black Lamborghini Gallardo with tinted windows. He went to St. Anthony's on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays and stayed there for about two hours. Now, Em Cal knew what he had to do.

It was an exeptionally hot Friday night. Em Cal, driving a 1980 dark blue Ford Fairmont, parked across the street from St. Anthony's. He then waited. A few moments later, Gino's car pulled up in front of St. Anthony's. He disappeared into the place. Em Cal waited to make sure nobody was in sight and go out, heading toward the Lamborghini. He got out a slim jim and opened the door. Then, he started up the ignition with a bobby pin.

Claude's house was a few blocks away. Em Cal stepped on the gas and sped through the streets.

He finally arrived at Claude's house. He knocked on the door. A few moments later, Claude answered the door. He was short and thin with blue eyes, curly brown hair and a five o'clock shadow.

"Is it ready?" Em Cal asked.

"You get straight to the point don't you Em Cal?" Claude said, laughing. "Hold on."

He closed the door. A few moments later, he reappeared with the bomb and headed outside to plant the bomb under the car.

After he was done, he told Em Cal, "Make sure you activate the bomb before you get out the car."

"Alright," said Em Cal, handing Claude five thousand dollars. "Catch you later."

Em Cal drove back to St. Anthony's and parked the Lamborghini in the spot that Gino left it in. He activated the bomb, before going back inside the Fairmont.

Thirty minutes later, Two Ton Gino emerged. He got inside the car. Seconds later, a loud BOOM! erupted into the night. There was a huge fireball. Em Cal laughed mirthlessly as he drove away.

He pulled up in front of Gallagher's. He walked inside and walked up to V.K. McMahon.

"Well?" McMahon said.

"It's done," said Em Cal.

"That's my Em Cal." said McMahon happily. "You always come through for me."

He gave Em Cal an envelope.

"That's three hundred thousand dollars." he said. "But now that we killed off their capo, they're going to retaliate. We must expect them to make their move. We've got to be extra vigilant."

"I know," said Em Cal. "When they make their move, I'll be ready."

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear." said McMahon. "Now I want you to lay low for a few weeks. "I'll call you if anything develops."

Em Cal walked out of Gallagher's, three hundred thousand dollars richer. He decided to get wasted at the Se7en Spades and then go to the Red Light District to pick up a hooker.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

Em Cal woke up with a terrible headache. He looked at his watch that was on a nearby dresser. It was eight-fifty. He shook the woman that he picked up awake and told her to leave. Then, he slipped ona robe and checked his Blackberry for messages. So far, there was none.

Yawning, he went into living room and looked for some painkillers. He found some Motrin and took it with some water. When the pain subsided, he ate a quick breakfast of Cocoa Puffs. He then showered and shaved and got dressed.

V.K. McMahon had told him to lay low for a while. He didn't see how he was going to do that. He did not like to have too much leisure time. He couldn't sit back while the Saracinos were possibly plotting.

Em Cal headed to the gym where he sparred with a few regulars. He then went to D.O.A. and practiced his shots, which were always accurate. After hanging there for an hour, he went to Leroy's All You Can Eat and piled his plate up with the best soul food in the city.

He looked at his watch. It was four o'clock. He headed over to the Se7en spades where he took shot after shot and played pool with the regulars. It was late at night by the time Em Cal left.

He didn't want to go to his place just yet. He drove to Diamondback Desert where he got off his bike and walked through the desert. It was cool in the desert. Em Cal could hear a coyote howling in the distance as he walked along the cacti. He looked up at the deep blue sky with the crescent moon. He continued to walk through the desert.

He finally decided to go back home. He went back to his Harley and headed back to his apartment.

He took off his leather duster and sat on his couch, where he lit up a Winston. Taking a couple of drags, he turned on the T.V. Pulp Fiction was on. He watched that to the very end.

After he showered, Em Cal got into bed and went to sleep.

For the next few days, Em Cal was beside himself with boredom. Every so often, he checked his Blackberry for messages. There was none. He just had to make the best of things.

Em Cal was in the middle of getting on it with a lady he had picked up when his Blackberry went off. Swearing, but continuing his onslaught, he answered.

"Em Cal," he said heavily.

"Hello, Em Cal," said V.K. McMahon. "I have a job for you. Meet me at Paddy's as soon as you can."

"Sure thing," said Em Cal. He got off of the hooker.

"Get lost, sweetheart," he said to her.

The hooker scoffed and gathered up her belongings. Em Cal put his clothes on and headed downstairs.

He pulled up at Paddy's. When he got inside, it was packed. It took him a while to find McMahon. He was in the far corner, eating corned beef brisket. He didn't answer Em Cal right away because his mouth was full of food. When he swallowed he addressed Em Cal.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Yeah, let's do that," Em Cal said.

"There's this club owner," said McMahon. "Cain Rodriguez, you've heard of him?"

"Yeah, the King of The Night," said Em Cal.

"Yes, the very one," said McMahon. "Well, he wants to do business with me. I want you to take this suitcase full of heroin to him. If he likes what he sees, we've got ourselves an ally."

Em Cal got up without saying a word.

Cain's club, La Casa Del Diablo was located in the downtown section of Titan City. It was the place to be seen. It was always packed.

Em Cal walked in. The red LED lights were intense. Everybody was either dancing to reggaeton music or getting hammered. Em Cal walked to the bar.

"Cain here?" he asked the bartender.

"Yeah, he's in the back," said the bartender.

Em Cal made his way to the back. Two bodyguards guarded the door. They both were huge, only shorter than Em Cal by an inch or two.

"I work for V.K. McMahon," Em Cal said, "I'm here to see Cain."

One of the bodyguards knocked on the door.

"Come in." said a man's deep heavily Spanish accented voice.

Em Cal walked in. Sitting in a brown leather chair was Cain Rodriguez.

Cain was in his mid 30s. He was light in color with long dark hair that was tied in a ponytail. He had intense dark eyes and a well trimmed beard. He was wearing an expensive white suit.

"Leave us," he said to his bodyguards. When the bodyguards departed, Cain got up.

"Orale," he said. "I know who you are. You're the infamous Em Cal. You're a savage. The most dangerous assassin in Titan City."

"Yep, that's me," said Em Cal.

"It is an honor to finally meet you, _mi amigo_," said Cain. "It is an even bigger honor to do business with your boss, V.K. McMahon. McMahon is legendary. He is very well respected in this part of town. I look forward to this."

Em Cal put the suitcase on the table and opened it.

"Pure heroin straight from New Jersey," Em Cal said.

'Nice," said Cain. "I'm impressed."

He pulled out a suitcase and opened it.

"This is five hundred thousand dollars in fifties and hundreds." he said. "Do you accept?"

"Yes." said Em Cal.

Both men exchanged suitcases. They shook hands.

"Pleasure doing business." said Cain.

"Likewise," said Em Cal, "but remember, if you fuck me or V.K. McMahon over, I'll personally cut off your head and serve it on a platter. You have a good evening, Cain."

Em Cal stepped outside. He lit up a Winston and took several drags. A black '93 Mustang GT pulled up in front of him. Out case two men who Em Cal knew to be Saracino's henchmen.

"Hey greaseballs," said Em Cal non chalantly. "Fancy meeting you here."

"You wanna blow up peole you mick bastard?" snarled one of them. "You're gonna wish you were never born."

Em Cal let out a derisive laugh.

"If you want a piece of me, come and get it wop." Em Cal said.

He threw the cigarette away and charged at the nearest one, knocking him to the ground. A large fist hit Em Cal on the side of the head knocking him dingy. The hench man then got Em Cal with a couple of shots to the ribs and stomach. Em Cal fought back with shots to the face and head. He then head butted the hench man three times and threw him into his car. The one Em Cal knocked down came after him. Em Cal grabbed him and kneed him several times in the gut before hitting him with a fusillade of fists. He was still standing but hurt pretty bad. Em Cal sent him head first into the Mustang's window.

Before both men could get up again, Em Cal pulled out the 8 shot revolver. He shot both henchmen dead and spat on both bodies before grabbing the suitcase he dropped and drove off before witnesses came.

Em Cal drove back to Paddy's. It was nearly empty, but McMahon was still there.

"What happened to you, Em Cal?" McMahon asked. "You have a lump the size of an egg on the side of you head."

"Got into it with two of Saracino's boys." Em Cal said. "I killed them."

"That's great to hear," said McMahon.

"There's one thing," Em Cal said. "They knew that I killed Two Ton Gino."

"Really?" said McMahon.

"Yeah," said Em Cal. "And they knew I was at Cain's club."

"How could they know?" McMahon asked. "There was nobody who saw you steal Gino's car was there?"

"Not a soul," Em Cal said. "You think someone's watching us?"

"Possibly," said McMahon. "You be careful, Em Cal. As a matter of fact, don't go home. Stay in a hotel for while. Keep a gun on you at all times."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Em Cal said. He gave McMahon the suitcase and walked out of Paddy's.

Em Cal checked into an inn in a small rural town. The room was small and plain with nothing but a coffee table and a T.V.

Em Cal took off his clothes and ot into the shower. There, he thought about those two goons. It was rare that he was caught by surprise, even though he hadn't shown it. How, _how _did they know he was at Cain's club?

He dried himself off and watched some T.V. until he fell asleep.

V.K. McMahon called Em Cal up three days later. They were going to blow up one of the Saracino's businesses. The plan was to drive to Little Italy, use one of their men as a decoy to distract the Saracino's while Em Cal went inside unnoticed to plant the bomb. Em Cal drove McMahon's Porsche along with two other members of MCS up Castellano Avenue. When Em Cal arrived at Angelo's Ristorante, he lout out a loud swear. Cop cars surrounded the area. There were a few dozen cops in front of Angelo's.

"Can you believe this?" McMahon said. "They must've known we were coming and called the police. Those rat bastards!"

Em Cal droved McMahon back to Paddy's. He then drove back to his inn. There, he wondered how the Saracino's knew they were coming, how they knew he would be at Cain's club. Then he went further than that. On the day Paul L. died, how did Saracino know the exact location of where the drug deal was going down? It just didn't add up. He smelled a rat. Someone had to be talking within MCS.

Em Cal's phone went off. He answered it.

"Em Cal,"

"Cal, this is S.D. Do you have time to meet me under the Capone Bridge in fifteen minutes?"

"What is it?" Em Cal asked.

"There's something you gotta see," said S.D., "you won't believe it."

"Alright," said Em Cal. "This better be good."

"I'm not shitting you." said S.D. "I'm in a red Honda Civic."

And he hung up.

Em Cal headed to his Harley. On his way there he wondered what S.D. had to show him.

He arrived under Capone Bridge. He saw the red Honda Civic and got inside. S.D. was there.

So you dragged me across town to see what?" Em Cal asked.

"Just in time, man," said S.D. "Take a look over there."

He pointed over to the opposite side of the freeway where there was a storage garage.

"I don't see anything." said Em Cal. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Just keep your eyes peeled." said S.D.

A few moments later, several men emerged from one of the storages. Em Cal instantly recognized Luigi Matarazzo, The Saracino's underboss and Nino and Carmine Gioletti, soldiers for the Saracinos.

"The Saracino's having a little business meeting." Em Cal said. "What's the big deal about that?"

"Keep looking," said S.D.

Another man emerged from the storage. Em Cal did a double take.

It was Sean McCullough one of MCS's soldiers.

"What the hell?" Em Cal said.

It all made sense now. That's why the Saracinos knew McMahon's moves; McCullough was giving them information.

"I'm sorry, man," said S.D. "I heard a rumor and thought I'd see for myself."

"No, S.D., you did the right thing," said Em Cal. He pulled out a wad of cash and gave it to S.D. Then he pulled out his Blackberry and dialed McMahon's number.

"Hello?" said McMahon's voice.

"McMahon, this is Em Cal. I've got some info for you."

"What is it?" McMahon asked.

"A very reliable source came and showed me something." said Em Cal. "And I found out that Sean has been supplying the Saracinos with info about us. That's how they knew about everything we did before we did it."

"Is that so?" said McMahon, his voice fraught with anger. "That son of a bitch."

"Do you want me to waste him?" Em Cal asked.

"No, no," said McMahon. "Let's not act too hasty. " We all will take care of him personally."

"How?" Em Cal asked.

"Time to throw a party on the yacht." said McMahon. "Friday evening."

"Alright," said Em Cal. "See you then."

He hung up

"I gotta go," he said to S.D. "See you 'round kid."

He got back on his Harley and drove back to the inn.

The yacht drove along Sundance Ocean. Everybody was having a good time. Animotion's 'Obsession', was blasting over the PA system and the sun was setting. All of MCS was on the yacht, partying. Em Cal was at the bar, sinking tequila shots. He was headed to where the food was when Stephen tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mr. McMahon wants us together, fella," he said.

Em Cal followed Stephen to one of the rooms. McMahon and the rest of MCS were there.

"Are you guys enjoying yourselves so far?" McMahon asked.

A murmur of yesses ripped through the room.

"Glad to hear it," said McMahon. "But there's one person who shouldn't even be enjoying theirselves. As a matter of fact, they shouldn't even be alive."

He walked up to Sean McCullough.

"What do you have to say for yourself, you rat bastard?" McMahon said in a quiet but deadly tone.

"What're you talkin' about, boss?" said McCullough. Em Cal noticed he was starting to sweat.

"Don't you try to act innocent with me you turn coat snitch piece of crap!" McMahon shouted. "You've been feeding information to the Saracino's! It's because of you, my son in-law is dead!"

He slugged McCullough in the gut. McCullough doubled over in pain.

"After all I've done for you." McMahon said. "I took you into this group from that sorry job you were doing, washing dishes, had you sitting on a pile of cash and this is how you repay me? You disappoint me Sean. Now, I have no use for you. Boys, take care of his sorry ass."

MCS advanced on him, beating and stomping every part available. Em Cal broke both of his legs and Stephen broke his arms.

The beating went on for ten minutes. McCullough was laying on the floor, bloody and bruised, looking like a human pretzel. McMahon pulled out a Beretta Px4 Storm.

"This is the end of the line for you, McCullough," said McMahon. "See you in the next life."

McMahon emptied the whole clip into McCullough's body.

"Take his ass outta here and dump him into the water," McMahon said. "Move it!"

Em Cal, Stephen and three other MCS members lifted McCullough's body, took it outside and dumped it into the ocean.

"Hopefully, the sharks'll take care of the rest." said Em Cal

Everybody walked off and partied like nothing happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

It had been a week since McCullough had been killed. McMahon and the MCS kept their ears glued to the streets for any move that the Saracinos attempted to make. So far, the Saracinos were trying to attempt a drug deal at Sundance Docks.

"Okay, this is what we're going to do." said McMahon, "word on the street is that they're making a deal with some Mexicans. We're going to ambush the deal, take their drugs and money and be out. Now the deal goes down at 8:30 tonight. Eliminate everybody there, leave no one alive! You got it?"

Everybody nodded.

"Good," said McMahon. "Everybody go home and get ready for battle."

Em Cal didn't go home right away. He went to White Palace where he pigged out on sliders, chicken rings, fries, and a couple of shakes. Then, he went to his apartment and went into his arsenal. He chose a sawed off shotgun and a silenced Uzi. He got on the Harley and headed to Sundance Docks.

He parked his bike behind a storage. He noticed that Stephen's Camaro was there and several other cars of MCS.

"Just in time, fella," said Stephen. They were skulking behind huge stacks of boxes. "Everybody just arrived."

Em Call watched the Saracinos and the Mexicans exchange handshakes. Then they showed each other the contests of their briefcases.

"Alright, let's go," said Em Cal. He pulled out his silenced Uzi and clapped iron on the first Saracino he saw. Stephen and the rest of MCS went after the Mexicans. The other Saracinos sought refuge behind boxes and started firing at Em Cal. Em Cal went after them and let the Uzi spray. The Saracinos fell. Em Call pulled out the sawed off and make sure they died. He then went to the help Stephen and the rest of MCS with the Mexicans. One of them was crawling away. Em Cal walked slowly toward the Mexican. He let the sawed off shotgun off until there was no more shells in it.

"Quick, grab the money and drugs and get the hell out of here," Em Cal said.

The men obeyed and made off with the money and drugs. em Cal walked back over to the dead Saracinos. He unzipped his jeans and let it rain all over then. Then he headed back to his motorcycle and drove off to Paddy's. McMahon was more than pleased when he saw his men.

You guys came back quicker than I thought." said McMahon. "And not a single scratch on any of you. I take it they're all dead?"

"As a doorknob," said Em Cal, "even pissed on the bodies,"

"Oh shit, Em Cal," said McMahon laughing. "What a way to show contempt for someone."

"Well, it's because of them, Paul's dead," said Em Cal, "they deserve everything that's coming to them."

"That's very true," said McMahon. "We're going to make those assholes wish they never messed with us. They're going to get everything that's coming to them."

Everybody murmured in agreement.

"Now our next target is the bar," said McMahon. Frankie Saracino owns one. It's called Nino's Bar and Grill. We're going to blow it up. Kill him if he's there. We'll call Claude and tell him to get the bombs ready by Saturday. We're going to give them a taste of how serious we are. You all may go now."

All of the men departed. Em Cal hopped on the Harley. He was going to Exotic Vixen's Strip Club. He had a wad full of hundred dollar bills to blow.

When he got there, he went to the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. Then he went into one of the secret sections of the joint. He opened the door. Nobody was in there yet. He saw in his chair and sipped his drink. A few minutes later, a woman appeared. She was short and petite with long red hair, sky blue eyes and beautifully tanned skin. She was wearing a black bra with a matching thong.

"Hey, Em Cal," she said. She had a sultry voice. "Long time no see."

"I know, Cherrie," said Em Cal. "Work's been keeping me busy, baby."

"So," said Cherrie, "Are you ready for me to please you, big boy?"

"Yeah, please me," said Em Cal. "Show me what you got,"

Cherry turned on some music. She slowly began to gyrate her hips. She walked slowly toward Em Cal, turned around, bent over and wiggled her tailfeather. Em Cal slapped it and shoved a hundred dollar bill in her thong. She got on the chair Em Cal was sitting in and began to dance in a sexual way. Em Cal looked up, loving the view.

By the time Cherrie was finished dancing, Em Cal had gave away two thousand dollars.

"Thanks, big boy," said Cherrie, running a hand up and down Em Cal's chest. "See you soon, I hope,"

"You definitely will," said Em Cal. "Keep your sunny side up."

He left the strip club.

"Ready?" said Em Cal as they pulled up at Nino's Bar and Grill.

"I was born ready, laddie," said Stephen.

"Good," said Em Cal. "Now as McMahon said, our mission objective is to murder everything moving and to plant the bomb."

"Okay," said Stephen, "let's go."

Em Cal grabbed the suitcase which contained the bomb and got out of the van he had stolen. MCS stalked toward the bar.

There were two bouncers in front of the doorway. Em Call pulled out a .44 Desert Eagle and shot both of them dead. Then they all ran inside. There were several of Saracino's men firing at MCS. People were screaming and running for the door. Em Cal jumped on top of the table, pulled out his pump action shotgun he stole from Terrell and blew one of Saracino's men away. Stephen and a guy named Brendan shot up one nearby.

"I'm going to plant the bomb!" shouted Em Cal.

He headed to the kitchen where there were more of Saracino's goons. Em Cal fired blindly with the shotgun and went on his way. When he got to the kitchen, he turned on the gas and planted the bomb. He set the timer to 3 minutes and rant back to the bar. MCS and the Saracinos were still fighting.

"C'mon let's get out of here!" Em Cal shouted.

MCS ran out of the bar, Em Cal leading the way. They all got in the van and drove a block up. They heard the loud satisfying BOOM! As the van sped up, Em Cal did a count. Everyone was there. They drove to the junkyard.

When they got there, they met up with a guy named Reg. Em Cal paid Reg to crush the van. When the van was in the crushers, Em Cal called McMahon's cell phone.

"Did everything go as planned?" he asked.

"Yep," said Em Cal, "down in flames."

"Good," said Em Cal. "Don't come here, come tomorrow. I'll pay you all then."

"Sounds good," said Em Cal. "See you tomorrow,"

He hung up.

"We've got to go our seperate ways," said Em Cal. "Get a cab, take a bus, whatever. Just get out of here ASAP. Copy?"

Everybody nodded their heads.

"Good," said Em Cal. "See ya soon."


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Fall came pretty quickly. As usualy, things got cool in Titan City. Well some things.

Titan City was playing host to a battle between a heated rivalry, which consisted of the McMahon Crime Syndicate and the Saracino Family. A full scale war had broke out between the two groups. People were dying on both sides and businesses were being blown up. There were a close call for V.K. McMahon. As he and Em Cal were walking out of Callahan's, a gunman came out of nowhere and opened fire. Em Cal had gotten hit in the leg and shoulder, but he shot the gunman dead. He then drove himself back home where he removed the bullets himself.

Em Cal and Stephen examined the body. The face was so disfigured it was hard to identify. But Em Cal could tell by the shamrock necklace who it was. It was Patrick O'Heegan, one of MCS' hitmen.

Someone had dumped a body in front of Paddy's. Em Cal was inside when Stephen said he had saw a a black '93 Ford Taurus pull off moments after the body had been dumped.

"Did you see who was inside the Taurus?" Em Cal asked.

"No," said Stephen. "The windows were tinted."

"Well, it's obvious the Saracinos were behind this shit," said Em Cal. "Patrick may have been low in ranking, but dammit, he was one of us. And when you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us."

"This shit has to end," said Stephen. "I know you've heard of the saying, "cut off the head and the rest of the body dies with it."

"Of course," said Em Cal.

"Well, if we kill the head guy in charge, maybe we can weaken the Saracinos. They'd be lost."

"That's a good idea," said Em Cal. "We should run the idea to McMahon."

After the coroners carted Patrick off, McMahon arrived. Em Cal filled him on on what had happened. McMahon was beside himself.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "How many men am I going to lose before this is over?"

"We were just talking about that, Mr. McMahon," said Stephen. "If we kill the Don, maybe they'll stop fighting."

"That's a great idea, Stephen," said McMahon. "As of this moment, I'm placing a bounty on Frank Saracino's head. The man who kills him will be rewarded immensely. But I will tell you now. Frank Saracino is very evasive, you'll find it very difficult to get a hold of him. Best of luck, gentlemen."

He went inside. Em Cal and Stephen looked at each other.

"Well, best of luck, fella," said Stephen, extending his pale hand.

"Same to you," said Em Cal, accepting his hand.

They both went their seperate ways.

Em Cal was in the gym. After an intense workout, Em Cal hit the shower. After he left the gym, he ate at Dirty Dan's Diner. While he was eating, his Blackberry went off. Grumbling to himself, he answered it.

"Em Cal," he said lowly.

"Hey, Em Cal, long time," said a man's voice.

"Holy shit," said Em Cal. "Is this who I think it is?"

"Yep," said the voice, "it's Shane."

Shane was McMahon's only son. He was second in charge of the McMahon Crime Syndicate. He was quiet, but had a ruthless edge about him. He had been laying low in Miami for a year now. He was wanted for questioning about three police officers who had been killed. For all Em Cal knew, Shane did it, but the fuzz would have a tough time proving it.

"What brings you back to Titan City?" Em Cal asked.

"Miami's nice, but like Dorothy said, there's no place like home," said Shane. "Listen, Em Cal, you wanna meet up?"

"Sure," said Em Cal, "where at?"

"At club, Del Fuego," said Shane. "I'll see you there."

Em Cal went back to his place where he took another shower. Then he put on a pair of black khakis, a dark blue shirt, and some black shoes. He combed his hair and pulled it into a ponytail. He put on a bandana and sunglasses and discarded the leather duster for a light racing jacket. On instinct, he put inside his jacket a Matrix M9 Snow Wolf Pistol and a .50 Desert Eagle. Then, he got on his Harley and headed to Club Del Fuego.

When he got there, he could see the black Porsche 911 Turbo that read Shane O Mac on the license plate.

The place was packed. It took Em Cal a while to find Shane. He was at the table with two ladies. Em Cal cleared his throat to get his attention. Shane got up and shook Em Cal's hand.

"Good to see you, Em Cal," said Shane.

"Likewise," said Em Cal. "I see you got a tan going on there. You've been eating good too? You've got a paunch."

Shane laughed.

"Yeah, Miami has some good cuisine," he said.

"Introduce me to your lady friends," Em Cal said.

"Oh, this is Shelly," said Shane, indicating the curvy blonde.

Em Cal winked at her.

"And this," said Shane, indicating the petite brunette, "is Cookie."

"Nice to meet you, Cookie," said Em Cal, "Maybe later, I'll dip you in some milk."

"Cookie laughed.

"You promise?" she said.

"I ain't lying," Em Cal said.

"Ladies, can you please excuse us?" Shane said. "Me and him gotta talk."

"See you later guys," said Shelly. They both blew kisses at the two men. Em Cal and Shane watched them walk away.

"So," said Shane. "Give me the low down on everything that's been going on. I haven't talked to Dad yet, he doesn't even know I'm up here."

"Well, we're at war now," said Em Cal, "with the Saracinos."

"Saracinos?" repeated Shane. "How'd that start?"

"I was with Paul doing a drug trade when some of Saracino's men came out and tried to ambus the deal. They killed Paul."

"Paul's dead?" Shane asked with a shocked look on his face.

Em Cal nodded grimly.

"So, we've been going at it back and forth for a month or so. Some of the wops tried to grease your father a few weeks back. Every since, he's placed a bounty on Frankie Saracino's head. Whoever kills him gets the ultimate prize."

"So you think it'll be you?" Shane asked.

"It might be," said Em Cal. "Never know how things will end out."

"Until, then, we've got to make sure the Saracinos suffer financial loss as well as physical loss."

"What do you have in mind?" Em Cal asked.

"They have a courier named Anthony." said Shane. "Before I left for Miami, sources told me that there this van full of money that leaves Little Italy and goes all the way to Cherry Grove. We're talking millions of dollars. We need to hijack the van, kill Anthony and take the money. Anthony loads the truck every Thursday morning before heading off to Cherry Grove.

"I'm in," Em Cal said.

"I knew you would be," said Shane. "Now that we got business out of the way, let's get down to pleasure."

"I love the way you think," said Em Cal.

They got up from their table and headed to where Shelly and Cookie were. Before they could reach them, shots rang out. People screamed and headed for the door. Instinctively, Em Cal pulled out the Matrix. Shane got out his gun too. They looked for the source of the gun shots. Three big men were stalking toward Em Cal and Shane. They shot at the two men, but missed and hit the mirror instead. As glass shattered everywhere, Em Cal and Shane took refuge under the tables. Shane looked up from his table. One of the men was within close rang. Shane fire three times, striking the man in the gut, chest and neck. The man fell back dead. Em Cal pulled out his Desert Eagle and jumped up from his table and fired his guns at both men. He struck both of them. One man fell, but the other man fired at Em Cal with his good arm. Em Cal fired back with both of his guns. At last, the man fell.

One of the men was crawling away. Em Cal looked at Shane. Both men nodded, walked over to the man, drew their guns, and lit the man up.

"I think it's best we get going," Em Cal said.

"Right," said Shane. Both men scramed out of Del Fuego going to their respective vehicles.

It was Thursday morning. Em Cal, Stephen, and Shane were all in an olive green Mercury Marauder. Stephen was across the wheel. Across the steet was a grey Chevy Corsica whiched contained three MCS soldiers. They sat there waiting.

Then, half an hour later, a white Chevy Astro emerged. Em Cal watched it go into the back of the club. 15 minutes later, the Astro back up and was heading for the intersection.

"Alright," Shane said, "show time."

"Okay, get ready," said Em Cal on the walkie talkie, "follow the van."

After the Corsica pulled off, the Marauder followed. The Astro turned a corner, unaware of the peril behind it.

They were following the van for about twenty minutes. When they reached the road it was time to spring into action.

"Pull up to the right side of the Astro," said Em Cal on the walkie talkie.

The Corsica pulled up next to the van. Stephen pulled up on the left side of the van. Shane and Em Cal pulled out their guns and fired at the van's tires. They flattened one, but the van continued to go. Em Cal reloaded and fired at the back tire, flattening it. The Astro skidded out of control, but kept driving. The guys in the Corsica took care of the rest. All of the tires had been flattened. Anthony abandoned the Astro and took flight on foot. Shane got out of the Marauder and shot him dead.

Everyone got out of their cars and headed toward the van. Em Cal opened to back of the van. There were family sized boxes of cereal in the van. Em Cal opened a large box of Cap N Crunch. There was used one hundred dollar bills inside.

"These cereal boxes have the money in them," said Em Cal. "C'mon, take all of them."

They unloaded the van and put the cereal boxes in each of the cars' trunks. Then they drove off before the police came to the spot.

They drove to Paddy's. In the storage room, V.K. McMahon and MCS counted the money.

"This is over fifty million dollars," said McMahon, "this is the most money we've stolen from an enemy so far. But we're going to keep taking from the Saracinos until they don't have one dry penny. Rob them for everything they've got. You see, the Saracinos started this, but dammit, we're going to finish it. We're going to make them wish they would've been better off delivering pizzas."

McMahon gave every man who participated in the robbery a cut of the money. Em Cal stayed at Paddy's for a while then left. It was time to get serious. He had to find Frank Saracino and end this once and for all.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

The McMahon Crime Syndicate continued to attack the Saracinos financially. McMahon would receive tips that a shipment of drugs was coming in for the Saracinos. He and MCS would go intercept the drugs and keep it for theirselves. By the end of the month, MCS had stole over eighty million dollars worth of drugs from the Saracinos, boosting McMahon's networth and reputation.

Meanwhile, Em Cal was busy trying to find a lead of the whereabouts of Frankie Saracino. He'd sent S.D. out on the streets, but so far, even he couldn't find out where he was hiding. But Em Cal was determined. He would show up at the restaurants he knew the Saracinos used as fronts, but he never saw Frankie in there.

MCS were all sitting at the round table in the back of a room in Gallagher's. McMahon sat in the middle, wearing a tailor made Armani suit and an expensive Rolex.

"Now there's some young punks from Orange Grove who're trying to make a name for theirselves," said McMahon. "They need guns and some drugs to start them off. Show them the best that we got and make a deal with them. If the deal goes through, we got ourselves another ally. But remember, the Saracinos are going to probably want some revenge. So all of you, watch your asses. Meeting adjourned."

Em Cal, Stephen, and Shane got into a Chevy Astro full of firearms and cocaine. Em Cal took the wheel.

Orange Grove was in central Titan City. It was a nice quiet area, the last place you would expect organized crime to take place.

"This the house?" Em Cal asked, pulling up next to a large red house.

"Yeah," said Shane. "Let's go,"

The three men got the weapons and drugs and headed toward the door. Stephen knocked on the door. A few moments later, a man answered the door. He was short, about five feet tall with spiky blond hair, and pale green eyes, similar to Em Cal's. He had three earrings in his left ear.

"What do you want?" he said in a low voice.

"We're associates of Mr. McMahon, fella," said Stephen.

"Ok, ok," said the man, "come in."

The living room was moderate sized with cherry wood floor. The walls were painted an oatmeal color. Em Cal thought it was bland. He had been to V.K. McMahon's house. He had statues and expensive paintings in his living room. This living had no personality.

In the living room, sat several other people. ONe was large black man who had intense dark eyes and a thick beard. The other was a woman, tall and slender with short hair that was dyed turquoise. She had a pointy face, elfin ears, and dark brown eyes. The last guy was of average height with dusky skin, high cheekbones and heavily greased hair and perfectly arched eyebrows.

"This is my crew," the blond man said. "This is J-Cool," the black man gave a mute nod, "Lexy," the girl gave a wave, "and Miguel," The last guy nodded. "And I'm Dax," the man said.

"Well, I'm Em Cal," Em Cal said. "This is Stephen. And this is Shane."

"It is an honor to meet you three." said Dax. "Especially you, Em Cal. You are legendary in this city."

"So I've heard," said Em Cal, nonchalantly. "So you're looking to make a mark in this world?"

"Yes," said Dax. "Life is dull in Orange Grove, you see. And we want to be in the thick of things. We want to have respect like you guys."

"Well you came to the right people," Em Cal said. "Let's get down to business."

"Not yet, Em Cal," said Shane. "All of you, shirts off."

"What?" the four said.

"Shirts off," said Shane. "We don't know if one of you is wearing a wire."

Reluctantly, the four took off their shirts. None of them were wearing a wire.

"Shane's a little suspicious of everyone," Em Cal said. "And rightfully so. We're not very popular with other groups."

Em Cal got out the weapons and set them on the table. Dax's eyes widened as if he was a kid who'd just entered a candy shop.

"Which one is this?" he asked, indicating a shotgun.

"That's a Remington 870," said Em Cal. "Guaranteed to put a Texas sized hole in your head or chest. We price this at seven hundred dollars."

"Neat," said Dax. "And what are these right here?"

"Those are Glock 22s," said Em Cal. "Holds 15 shots. Two hundred and fifty bucks each."

"Great deal," said Dax.

"And these are CAR 15s," Em Cal said, pointing to a carbine rifle. "Sprays about 700 to 900 rounds per minute. Nine hundred and seventy-five bucks each.

"And these are Uzis. Fires about six hundred rounds a minute. Five hundred dollars."

"Sweet," said Dax, "And what's this one?"

"Aahh, I was saving the best for last," said Em Cal. This is a Striker 12 shotgun. This is a difficult gun to get. because the National Firearms act consider it a destructive device. And because it's difficult to obtain, we're pricing it at fifteen hundred dollars."

"Sweet," Dax said. "We'll take them all."

"Alright," Em Cal said. "You got the green?"

J-Cool got out one of two suitcases.

"That's seventy-one hundred and fifty dollars." Em Cal said.

Dax gave Em Cal seventy-two hundred bucks and told him to keep the change.

"Now," said Stephen. "Let's get down to the nitty gritty."

He opened his case, containing the drugs.

"This is called Satan's Powder," said Stephen. "From Argentina. Very potent stuff. This is about twenty kis here."

"Well, we have eight hundred thousand dollars," said Dax. "Do we have a deal?"

"Definitely, fella," said Stephen.

The two exchanged the suitcases. Everyody exchanged handshakes and Em Cal, Stephen and Shane departed.

"Before we drop the money off to my dad, ya'll want something to eat?" Shane asked.

Em Cal and Stephen agreed.

The three men went to Crazy Cluckers where they munched on wings. They were talking and joking when Em Cal's Blackberry went off. Em Cal accepted the call.

"Em Cal," he said.

"I've got a lead on Frankie Saracino." S.D. said. "He owns a suite in Riina Heights. You know where that is right?"

"Right," Em Cal said. "Are you sure it's in Riina Heights?"

"I saw him leaving there last night." S.D. said.

"Alright," Em Cal said. "Good job, kid. "I'll pay you at the end of the week."

He hung up.

"Guys, I think we've found a lead on Frankie Saracino," Em Cal said. "An associate just called me and told me he has a suite in Riina Heights."

"Nice," said Shane. "What do you say we go there tonight?"

"I'm game," said Em Cal. "The sooner the asshole dies, the better we'll be."

"Yeah, but first, we've gotta go in disguise," said Shane. "I know a guy who has any uniform you can name. We pick them up and head over there."

"So, what should we go as?" Stephen asked.

"I got it," Em Cal said, "we got as poice officers, say we heard a disturbance in their place and we're in. We need police uniforms, badges and a police car. All of them were easy to obtain. All we need is some fake badges and a car with tinted windows.

"We'll do that," said Shane, "but first, let's deliver the money to my dad."

After they dropped the money off to McMahon, the three men headed downtown. They were fitted with police uniforms. After they paid for the uniforms, they went up the street and got fake badges. Then they went to Sleazy Joe's used car lot and got a black 99 Ford Crown Victoria with tinted windows.

"I don't know about you two." said Stephen. "But I have a sudden urge to stop by the donut shop."

Em Cal and Shane laughed as they got into the Crown Victoria.

They reached a luxury apartment building in Riina Heights. The three men headed to the main entrance. A security guard at the desk was doing a word search puzzle. She looked up and said, "Can I help you?"

Shane flashed his fake badge and said, "Hello, ma'am, I'm Officer Stewart. We received a call in from the Saracino residence about a disturbance."

"Tenth floor, apartment 10 C," said the guard.

The three men took the elevator to the apartment.

"Alright, this is it right here," said Em Cal. "Everybody get out their guns."

The three men got out their guns.

"On three all of us kick the door down," said Shane. "One...two...three!"

They kicked the door down and ran inside. Several men in the living room got up from where they were sitting and got out their guns. Em Cal and Stephen shot three of them dead. Shane shot two who were coming from the kitchen. They raided the rooms, shooting whoever was in there, but none of them was Frankie Saracino.

They finall reached the master bedroom. There wasn't any sign of Frankie Saracino, but there was a woman crouched near the bed. She was a young small and petite woman with waist length blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a frightened look on her face. Stephen grabbed her by the throat and pressed the gun to her head.

"Where's Saracino?!" Stephen shouted. "Where is he? Answer me or I'll kill you dead!"

"I don't know!" the woman shouted. "Please don't kill me, I really don't know!"

"Not the answer I wanted to hear!" Stephen said. "You better tell me where Frankie Saracino is!"

"I swear to God I don't know," the woman said.

"I think she's telling the truth," said Em Cal, "but what should we do with her?"

"I know what to do with her," said Shane, slyly, grabbing his crotch.

"No!" said Em Cal, "just because we're criminals, doesn't mean we should behave like animals. I got a better idea. You know how in wars they have POWs?

Stephen and Shane nodded.

"Looks like we have us a prisoner of war," said Em Cal. "Send her to our headquarters, keep her there, force Frankie Saracino to show his face and kill him."

"Em Cal, you're a freaking genius." said Shane. "C'mon lady, you're coming with us."

"Yeah," said Stephen, taking out handcuffs. "We should slap these on her to make it look authentic."

"Yeah," said Em Cal. "Put them on."

Stephen put the handcuffs on her.

"Start moving," he told the woman.

"Don't look at anyone. If you do a bullet is going into your brains. Got it?"

"Y-y-yes," the woman stammered.

The three men lead the woman out of the apartment and into their car. They drove to Paddy's. V.K. McMahon was there.

"Back so soon?" he said. "Who's this you have here?"

"A POW," said Shane. "We went to Saracino's suit, but he wasn't there. But she was. So Em Cal comes up with the idea of holding her hostage, forcing Saracino to show his face so we can kill him."

"Why that's a good idea," said McMahon, "Let's call Saracino right now."

Vince got out his phone, blocked his number and said to the woman, "What's Frank's number?"

The woman told him the number. He dialed it. The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Hello?" said a man's hoarse Italian accent."

"Hello, Saracino," said McMahon. "Do you know who this is?"

"No, I do not," said Saracino. "So please cut the crap and tell me who this is up front!"

"Very well," said McMahon. "This is V.K. McMahon and guess what Frankie ol' pal? Three of my men went to your suite in Riina Heights and took daughter or girlfriend or whoever she is. If you want her to remain alive, you'll turn yourself in exchange for your life."

"You touch her, you're a dead man, McMahon," Frankie Saracino snarled.

V.K. McMahon let out a derisive laugh.

"Frankie, Frankie, Frankie," he said. "Do you really think you're in a position to make threats? All I have to do is say the word and your lady friend will be up close and personal with God. Now if you do what I say, she'll be unharmed. She's a Paddy's. You have forty-eight hours."

He hung up and looked at the woman.

"If he shows up within the time I gave him, you won't have nothing to worry about my dear." he said. "Until then, you're ours. But unlike the Saracinos, we're gentlemen. We'll treat you right, just like a cow being raised for slaughter."

The woman said nothing.

"Guys, check her before we put her in the back," he said. "She might have a cell phone on her."

Em Cal frisked her. Sure enough, she had a cell phone on her and a wallet. Em Cal took the ID from her wallet.

"According to this, her name's Victoria." he said. "We'll keep all of this just incase."

"Alright, put her in the storage room." said McMahon. "But give her something to eat and drink while she's back there."

Four of MCS escorted Victoria to the back. Em Cal, Stephen, and Shane stepped outside.

"I can't wait to see how this turns out," said Shane. "Frankie Saracino's done."

"Yeah," said Em Cal, lighting up a Winston. "I hope the asshole shows up. I'd love to be the one who kills him. He's had it coming to him for a long time."

"Yeah, we'll just have to see how things develop," said Stephen.

"Yeah," said Shane, "until then, let's have some fun whle in these police uniforms."

"What do you have in mind?" Em Cal asked.

"Head to a college campus and harrass some students," said Shane.

"Alright," said Em Cal, "Let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

It was Mischief Night in Titan City. Em Cal dug Mischief Night. Every year, he would stalk the trouble making participants and make their lives hell the way they made innocent people's lives hell. On this particular night, Shane wanted in on the action.

It was about nine o'clock at night. Em Cal and Shane, both masked, were cruising around, looking for some teenagers.

"There goes some," Shane said, pointing to a group of hooded teenagers, walking up the street.

"Ready?" Shane asked, pulling out a paintball gun.

"Ready," Em Cal said, getting out a paintball gun of his own.

Em Cal pulled up alongside the teenagers. He slowly rolled the window down. Shane stuck the gun out of the window. The teenagers froze. Before they knew it, they were bombareded with paint. They yelled, falling as they scrambled to get away. When Shane ran out of ammo, Em Cal pulled off, laughing their heads off.

Two and a half blocks later, Em Cal saw some kids throwing eggs at a bus that was driving pass. He pulled up close to them, aimed at them and tagged them up with paintballs.

"How does the dose of your own medicine taste you little bastards?" he asked, speeding off.

Next, they went upstairs to an abandoned building, armed with Jell-O balloons, powder bombs, and pumpkins. They threw them at teenager after teenager. It was worth seeing these little trouble makers wriggle and squirm like little worms when they were hit.

"Well, that's the last of everything," said Shane, "what do you want to do now?"

"Let's go back to Paddy's," Em Cal said.

The two drove back to Paddy's. V.K. McMahon was not there, but Stephen and other members of MCS were.

"Where's Dad?" Shane asked.

"He called it a night," said Stephen.

"How's the POW?" Em Cal asked.

"She's alright," Stephen said. "Wanna see for yourself?"

He opened the door. Victoria was sitting, back toward the wall. He pretty hair was now a mess. Her eyes had black bags under them. She looked up at her captors.

"Hey there, beautiful," said Shane. "How're you feeling?"

"What the hell's it to you, asshole?" Victoria snapped.

"Now you don't want to be using that tone with us," said Em Cal, "especially when we've got the power to snap your pretty little neck in half."

"You won't get the satisfaction," Victoria said. "Once Frank comes, all of you going to be sorry."

"I believe you've got it all wrong, young lady," Em Cal said, a hint of anger manifesting in his voice. Once Frankie shows his face, he's going to be the one who's sorry. As a matter of fact, if he doesn't show, _you're _going to be the one who's sorry. You know what? Why wait for Frankie to show? Maybe I should kill this smart mouthed broad right now!"

He pulled out an M9 and aimed it at Victoria's head. She started to panic. She closed her eyes as Em Cal pulled the trigger, but there was no loud bang associated with a gun firing. Victoria opened her eyes. Em Cal lowered the gun and laughed.

"Nothing in it," he said. "But I could have killed you. I could have killed you and not gave a good damn if Frankie boy would have come for you. It's a different ball field over here, honey."

And he walked out of the storage room and got on his bike and headed home.

_Hour 42_

It had been a day in a half. There was no sign of Frankie Saracino still. MCS was growing impatient. They all wanted to kill Victoria.

But V.K. McMahon wanted to be a man of his word. He told his men to back off unless Frankie failed to turn himself in.

Em Cal stood guard over the door, gun in his hand. McMahon, who'd been looking at his watch repeatedly, said, "Em Cal, your shift is over. Go do whatever you please."

"Are you sure, McMahon?" Em Cal asked.

"Positive," said McMahon. "Go have a good time on me."

Em Cal didn't think it was a good idea to leave, but nonetheless he got on his Harley and drove off. He drove around for a good ten meinutes, before deciding to go to the Se7en Spades. Things were just starting to pick up as he came in.

"Hey, Jack, what's happening?" Em Cal asked.

"Nothin' much," Jack said. "Same 'ol shit, differen't day."

"Yeah, I hear ya, man," said Em Cal. "Let me have the usual."

Jack served Em Cal Jack and Coke as Em Cal lit up a Winston. He looked around. There was a pool table available. He sank his drink and put out his Winston. He sauntered to the pool table and said, "Anyone want a game?"

One guy, a tall, muscular, mean looking bald man faced Em Cal and said in a West Country British accent, "I'll take you on, bloke."

Em Cal racked up.

"Alright," he said, "How's about we put some action on it?"

"Okay," said Baldy. "Three hundred per ball."

Em Cal took out a thick wad of money and said, "Bring it on Kojak."

Baldy shot him a look before saying, "Bags, I go first."

Baldy took a cue, sharpened it, and line it up toward the cue ball and hit it. The balls scattered. Number two went in the side pocket.

"I'm solids, you're stripes," he said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Em Cal said. "Shut up and keep playing."

Baldy went for number 5 in the right pocket. It went in. So did the cue ball. Em Cal tsked.

"Tragic," he said with a humorless smile. He sharpened up his cue stick, put the cue back on the table and aimed for ball number 14. He hit it. It sank into the pocket. He went over to ball number 11, which was right in aim point of left pocket. He struck the cue ball. It shot like a bullet hitting number 11, watching it go into the pocket.

From that point, Em Cal sank every striped ball in a row. Baldy looked on in shock and disbelief.

Finally, the 8 ball was the only ball Em Cal had to pocket. It was near the side pocket. Em Cal positioned himself at the rail. He struck the cue ball. It hit the 8 ball. The 8 ball went into the pocket. Baldy swore profusely.

"I won," Em Cal said. "Pay up."

Baldy shook his head, smiling nastily.

"You're not getting a read cent from me, mate," he said. "You've been getting cheeky with me all night. You get nothing."

Em Cal's eyes lit up. He gave a smile that would have had his enemies cowering in fear.

"Is that so?" he said, his voice coming out in a soft deadly tone. "Listen, I'm not the one you fucking Brit. Now give me the money or I'm going to take this cue stick and shove it up your ass and turn you into a corn dog."

"Oh yeah?" said Baldy, "Why don't you try and take the money from me?"

Em Cal took the cue stick and whacked Baldy in the ribs, head, and back with it. Then he got behind Baldy and pressed the cue stick against his windpipe. Baldy gasped and sputtered as Em Cal pressed tighter. His face began to turn beet red. Then, he stopped struggling. He was out.

Em Cal let him go. Baldy dropped to the floor. Em Cal rummaged through his pockets and took all of his money. Then he kicked him over and stomped on his face hard, breaking his nose.

"You sure showed his ass," said Jack as Em Cal walked back over to the counter. ."Good for you."

"Yeah," said Em Cal, putting money on the counter. "That's for the pool cue I broke. Let me get another Jack and Coke and I'll be on my way."

After he sank his drink, Em Cal departed from the Se7en Spades. His Blackberry went off as he got on the Harley. He answered it.

"Em Cal," he said.

"Em Cal," said Shane. "By the tone of his voice, Em Cal knew something was wrong, "you've got to come over to Paddy's right now."

Em Cal didn't ask. He just turned on the Harley and got to Paddy's as fast as he could.

When Em Cal arrived on the scene, there were a few ambulance vehicles in front of Paddy's. Em Cal saw a few MCS members on the ground. He saw Shane talking to one of the EMTs. One EMT was attending to Stephen. He had been hit in the shoulder and ribcage.

Em Cal walked up to Shane. He didn't even have to ask who was responsible. He knew Frankie Saracino was behind the assault.

Shane's face was pale.

They came in the droves," he said, "we fought them, but we were outnumbered. They hit Dad."

"Shit," said Em Cal, who went paler than usual. "He's dead?"

"No, thank Christ," said Shane, "but he got hit multiple times. Most likely he's in critical condition."

"Dammit," Em Cal said. I knew I shouldn't have left.

"Yeah,' Shane said, "But Saracino's going to pay. Dearly."

"Damn right," Em Cal said. "We're going to bring it like we've never brought it before. It's time we start using our associates to our advantage. Obliterate these fucks."

"I'm going to stay overnight with Dad," Shane said, "You gather up everyone up for 've really crossed the line this time."

"Alright," Em Cal said. "Did you by chance see what car Frank Saracino got out of?"

"Now that you mention it, I did," Shane said. "It was a black '83 Grand Marquis. License plate read _Il solo e l'unico_."

"Good," Em Cal said. "I'll alert everybody to be on the lookout for it."

"Okay," said Shane, "the rest of the guys are inside."

Em Cal nodded and walked inside. MCS were looking somber.

"How's the boss? asked one of them, Mickey O'Toole.

"I don't know yet," said Em Cal. "But I want you to prepare for this week. "We're going to put an end to this shit once and for all. But for now, I want you to go home, spend time with your loved ones. I'm not going to sugarcoat it, you might not get to see them again. This is war. But if you happen to die, just make sure you take as many greasy head ginny fucks with you. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded.

"Good," said Em Cal. "Get out of here."

MCS left Paddy's. Em Cal called up Cain Rodriguez and told him to get his men ready, that he would be needing his services in exchange for more drugs. Cain obliged. Then Em Cal called Dax and his gang up. They were more than willing to take their role. After all was done, Em Cal left Paddy's and drove home. There, he took a long hot shower and sat on his sofa all night, smoking Winstons and sinking the whole bottle of Jack Daniels. He did not go to sleep. He was thinking about what he was going to do when he got a hold of Frankie Saracino. It had to be him. Not just for the bounty money, but for the kill. He was hungry for the kill. Never so badly had he wanted to kill. He always killed, but that was his job and it was for pleasure. But this would be a more personal kill. Frankie Saracino was the man responsible for Paul L's death. one of the few men Em Cal called a close friend. He had to avenge Paul. It was a must that he did it. Come hell or high water, before the week was over, Frankie Saracino was going to die...

Em Cal and some of MCS's up and coming hitmen pulled up in front of some row apartments in a silver Jeep Cherokee. Cain and 6 of his men, heavily armed, inside a Chevy Astro, were parked across the street. Dax and his gang were inside a red Lincoln Navigator behind Em Cal, waiting for his signal.

The plan was to use S.D. (who brought drugs from the Saracinos sometimes) to call Joey Morello, one of the dealers for the Saracinos and lure him in the vacant lot across from the row apartments. Joey was always heavily secured, so Em Cal thought it would be a perfect opportunity to take out as many as Saracino's men as possible.

Em Cal saw S.D., wearing a turquoise hooded sweatshirt, walk toward the vacant lot. He and Em Cal had met up earlier to supply S.D. with money. S.D. owned Joey money anyways. Joey would never have to worry about being owed money again after this.

Fifteen minutes later, four black Mercedes Benzes with tinted windows drove into the lot. Joey emerged from the third car. His men emerged as well. Em Cal counted. There were 9 of them. Em Cal and MCS, along with Cain and Dax's gang outnumbered the Saracinos. But that didn't mean anything; Em Cal knew that they were armed to the tee and would fight to the death.

On the walkie talkie, Dax called Em Cal.

"Do we go in there now?" Dax asked.

"No," Em Cal said, "Wait until S.D. leaves then we barricade them in."

A few minutes later, S.D. walked out of the lot. Em Cal made sure he was well gone.

"Ok, Cain, Dax, go!" Em Cal said.

Em Cal started up the engine and drove into the lot to intercept one of the Benzes. Cain and Dax followed.

Em Cal and MCS got out of their Jeep. Em Cal armed with a Saiga 12 shotgun, and the other members armed with AKs, AR-15s, and M4s. They shot up the first Benz they intercepted as Saracino's soldiers tried to get back in the car.

Cain and Dax's men got out their vehicles and closed in on the other Benzes. Joey Morello. armed with a 12 gauge, started firing away. Em Cal tried to cut him off, but was met by 3 of Morello's bodyguards, armed with machine guns. Em Cal blasted them with his Saiga 12. He had gotten hit in the shoulder, but it was just a graze and he was still able to wield the shot gun and keep shooting whomever stood in his path. Still he couldn't get a hold of Joey. His men stood in front of him, fighting, fiercly protecting him.

"Move, spread out! Em Cal shouted to everyone. "Surround these assholes!"

The strategy worked. Morello's men began to thin out. When the last of Morello's men was dead, everyone closed in on Joey. He was still shooting blindly, defiantly. Em Cal and MCS moved forward and let loose on Joey. Joey was holier than a priest as he lay on the ground, marinating in his own blood. Em Cal looked around and counted his men. Two of them had gotten hit, but they didn't hit any main arteries or organs. He would be able to take care of them easily.

He walked over to where Cain and Dax were.

"You did well guys," he said. "McMahon obviously knew what he was doing when he chose to do business with you. Any of your guys went down?"

"No, señor, not here," said Cain

"Miguel got hit," said Dax. "Took a hit to the leg from that shotgun. We're going to have to take him to a hospital."

"You do that," said Em Cal. "Let's shake the spot before the pigs come sticking their snouts over here."

"_Simóne, _you're right," Cain said. "Let's go _muchachos_."

Cain and Dax's gang moved out. Em Cal helped his men inside the Jeep and drove them to Paddy's, where he removed the bullet wounds himself.

Em Cal arrived at St. Francis Hospital. It was a private hospital in the outskirts of Titan City. Shane had called Em Cal earlier and told him what room V.K. McMahon would be in. He took the elevator to the third floor. He walked to the back where McMahon's room was. McMahon was laying in his bed. He had a pint of blood connected to him, and he had tubes sticking out of his chest and neck. It was a terrible sight. But at least, from what Shane told Em Cal, he was alert and aware of his surroundings.

Em Cal sat in the chair next to the bed and cleared his throat. McMahon's eyes opened.

"Hello, Em Cal," he said, his voice was raspy.

"How's it going, McMahon?" Em Cal asked.

"I've seen better, days, Em Cal, I'm seen better days," said McMahon. "But Frankie Saracino didn't finish the job. I'm still here."

"That's right," Em Cal said. "The Saracinos always did things half-assed. You also survived, because you're too damned stubborn to die."

McMahon chuckled.

"That, I am," he said. "But just because I'm in a hospital, doesn't mean I can't run things. I can still do my operations from a hospital bed. I want you to keep draining the Saracinos financially. Take them for every red cent! And I want you and Shane to continue to sell the product. And last, but not least, I want you to take out as many of those dagos while doing so."

"No sweat, McMahon," Em Cal said. "The Saracinos started this war, but I'm going to make damn sure the McMahon Syndicate finishes it.

"That's my Em Cal," said McMahon. "See you soon."

"Get well, McMahon," Em Cal said, getting up, "I'll keep in touch."


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

The week passed by quickly. Though V.K. McMahon was hospitalized, that didn't weaken the MCS. If any, they were more dangerous than ever. And unfortunately for the Saracinos, they were the target of all the MCS's rage. The MCS robbed them for everything they had. Drugs, money, and their influence. The power and the prestige that the Saracinos once had was deteriorating. Their empire was crumbling before their very eyes like cookies.

However, the MCS still hadn't delivered the coup de grace. They searched Titan City for Frankie Saracino, but still had no luck finding him.

Darkness was falling in Titan City. Em Cal cruised in brand new silver Ferrari to a town in Titan City called Shady Woods. It was a small town, but rapidly growing. One of McMahon's associates wanted to buy some of McMahon's best cocaine to distribute. Em Cal had thirty keys of cocaine in a duffle bag. He piled dirty clothes on top of the drugs just incase the police stopped him.

He pulled up to a busy street where there was a restaurant, a laundromat, a jewelry, an ice cream shop, and a clothing department store on the street. The associate wouldn't be arriving for another twnety minutes. So Em Cal turned off the car and lit up a Winston. He basked in his own thoughts for a few minutes. Then he looked around at the cars that were parked across the street. Boy, they weren't nothing cheap; A Porsche 911, a BMW Z8, a Grand Marquis. A black Grand Marquis...

Em Cal felt a violent jolt. Could this be? He had to make sure though. There were hundreds of black Grand Marquis cars. He looked at the license. Sure enough, the license plate read, _Il solo e l'unico. _

Em Cal quickly got out of the Ferrari. He looked at the name of the restaurant. Gianluigi's. Em Cal would have bet anything he owned that Frankie Saracino was in there. He stalked toward Gianluigi's.

Em Cal walked inside. He looked around and spotted Frankie Saracino right in the middle with a few of his henchmen.

Frankie was a tall man. He had brown hair with streaks of gray, a rather large nose, and a slight paunch. He had piercing blue eyes and you can just feel the power permeating from them.

Em Cal pulled out two MP5ks. Several people noticed and got up and headed for the door. Em Cal then yelled, "ANYBODY ELSE WHO DOESN'T WANT TO DIE, GET OUT NOW!"

People scrambled to get out the door way as Saracino's men pulled out guns and fired at Em Cal. Em Cal took shelter by a nearby table as glass shattered everywhere. Then he fired at the nearest henchman and got him. The other two henchmen fired at Em Cal, a bullet narrowly missing him by the skin of his teeth. Em Cal shot the two down. Stepping over the bodies, Em Cal aimed his guns at Frank.

"Don't you dare run," said Em Cal, his voice colder than polar caps.

Frankie looked at Em Cal with a clear and calm expression, like he wasn't worried that he was several seconds away from death.

"I was wondering when I'd see you, Em Cal," he said.

"Were you, now?" Em Cal said. "Before I kill you, I want answers. Why'd you gun for us?"

"You're a smart man, Em Cal, I thought you'd figured it out by now," Frankie said. We were number two in Titan City. Nobody likes being second best. The family got tired of playing checkers, so we decided to play chess. Our first move was to take one of your men and blackmail him into spilling the beans about McMahon's every moves. It worked. Our second move was to remove the biggest threats McMahon had; You and Paul. Only we underestimated how much of a fierce warrior you really are. But we got Paul and we thought that would break McMahon, but it only made him stronger."

"It's all about moving strategically, Saracino," Em Cal said. "And you should have realized when it comes to McMahon, you're just a low ranking piece of shit going up against a Grandmaster. Now you're about to suffer the consequences for your actions."

Frankie didn't flinch.

"I am not afraid of Death," Frankie said. "Many people are afraid to die, but I'm not. Death is the next step for me. A new adventure. I embrace death. Do what you have to do, Em Cal."

"With pleasure," Em Cal said.

"He squeezed the triggers of both MP5ks. Frankie was riddled with bullets. Em Cal kept firing, until he was out of ammunition. Frankie just lay in his seat, his eyes wide open. Em Cal stodd there for a moment, savoring the taste of victory. The taste of justice that was served to him. It was a bittersweet taste, but a good taste all the same.

Em Cal went back to the Ferrari. He called up Shane and let him know what had happened. Shane told Em Cal that he would forward the message to his father. Em Cal could hear the excitement in his voice.

After Em Cal made the deal, he returned to Titan City where he went to the cemetary. He found Paul's grave. He stood there for a few seconds before speaking.

"Hey Paul," he said. "Feels like forever since I came here, even though it's only been a few months. I really miss you, man. It's not the same anymore. I thought you should know that I killed Frank Saracino. You did not die in vain my friend. Rest in peace."

He left the cemetary. He decided to go back home and contemplate over a bottle of Jack and a pack of Winstons.

The death of Frank Saracino was a major blow for the Saracino Family. Over the next week after his death, MCS wiped out every major business front they had and took over their operations. Mof of Saracino's members retreated and went into hiding. The MCS now had control over half of the drugs that went in and out of Titan City. The Saracino's business that they protected, they now had to answer to V.K. McMahon. McMahon's influenc soared, while the Saracino's dropped rapidly.

V.K. McMahon was released from the hospital two weeks later, but he would be in a wheel chair for a few more weeks.

There was a big celebration at McMahon's mansion. Em Cal had only been to it once, but he always been impressed by it. It was a Greek style mansion surrounded by 20 acres of land. It was classic, unlike those God awful McMansions they were building everywhere.

Everyone was outside in the backyard when Em Cal arrived. The minute Em Cal was spotted, there were loud shouts and applause. Stephanie walked up to Em Cal and gave him a huge hug. There was some satisfaction that she felt that the man responsible for her husband's death was dead now.

McMahon beckoned Em Cal to him.

"I said whoever killed Saracino would get the ultimate prize. And you are."

He took a suitcase from his wife, Linda and handed to Em Cal.

"Ten million dollars," McMahon said. "All yours."

"Holy shit," Em Cal said. "Are you sure?"

"As death and taxes," McMahon said. "You've been my best soldier for 18 years and you deserve it. The ten million dollars is yours."

"I don't know what to say," Em Cal said.

"McMahon gave a wry grin.

"You're welcome, Em Cal," he said. "I know you don't like saying thank you."

"While I've got you here, McMahon," Em Cal started, "I've got something to tell you."

"Sure," McMahon said, "by all means, spit it out."

"You're right, I've been your best soldier for 18 years." And I've enjoyed these 18 years. If I had to do my life over, I'd do it all again. I have no regrets."

"Why does this sound like you're saying goodbye?" McMahon said.

"I am," Em Cal said. "As of today, I'm retiring from this business."

Everyone looked at Em Cal, shocked.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Em Cal?" McMahon asked.

"Positive," Em Cal said. "To be honest, it's been on the back of my mind every since the night Paul died, but I couldn't abandon you guys while were in a full scare war. And when I killed Frankie Saracino, it was too easy. It's time for me to move on."

McMahon nodded his head.

"I respect your decision, Em Cal," McMahon said. "But you will be sorely missed big man. I wish you the best in whatever you decide to do."

He extended his hand. Em Cal accepted.

"Thank you for 18 years of great service," McMahon said.

"You're welcome," Em Cal said.

"While I accept that you're retiring, I must ask you to please spend the rest of the night with us for this celebration."

"Sure thing," Em Cal said.

After V.K. McMahon rolled away, Shane and Stephen walked up to Em Cal.

"I guess this is goodbye," Shane said.

"No, of course not." said McMahon. "We can still hang out, pick up some chicks. Nothing's changed between us."

"I just want to say, it was an honor working with you, Em Cal," Stephen said. "I've learned many things from you fella."

"That's good," Em Cal said. "I hope you take those things you learned and use them wisely, because you're the number one soldier now."

"I've got big shoes to fill, fella," Stephen said

"I've got faith in you, kid," Em Cal said. "You'll do just fine."

The three men went to join in the party. Although he was enjoying himself, Em Cal's mind was going through many thoughts. He felt that retiring from the underworld was the right decision. But he was was wondering what he would do with himself. He didn't like the thought of having so much free time. He would think of something. But until then, he would spend time with the people he considered family for 18 years and get liquored up with them one last time.

**The End **


End file.
